I have always hated to fly. Ever since I was six and my mother the travel agent took our family on a grand trip to south America. First we went to Lima, Peru and took an excursion up to see the ruins at Machu Pichu. I barely remember that part of the trip at all except that my older brother threw a Frisbee off the top of the peak there and I thought it was the coolest thing I had ever seen as it floated all the way down. The next leg of our trip took us to Rio De Janero on a small twin prop plane. The turbulence was incredible and a few times we must have dropped over 1000 feet. For a normal boy this alone would have been terrifying, but with my powers I could feel the panic coming from everyone on the plane. I still shudder when I think about it. <READMORE>

So it was with a disturbing mixture of emotions that I boarded the plane with Carl to head to Vegas. On the one hand I felt ready and excited. I had won a few online tournaments playing strictly using my wits and I had dominated the field at one of the weekly Foxwoods tournaments and my game was the best it had ever been. On the other hand I was completely beside myself with anxiety. Of course, the three valium I had taken was giving a detached glow to the whole experience. I could barely even hear my own thoughts much less anyone else’s through the drug induced haze. The last thing I remember was Carl reaching across to close the window shade and I was out. I dreamed of bracelets and barely dressed beauties holding huge handfuls of cash.

“Wake up man!” Carl shook me a bit. “We are here and I am NOT carrying you through McCarrin Airport.”

I was awake and happy that I had slept through the flight so I thought I’d have some fun with him. “Just five more minutes mommy,” I mumbled sleepily.

I was just joking around, but I felt a profound sadness coming from Carl. I had felt this before when he thought of his mother. I could have just looked through his mind and found out what was troubling him easily enough, but I wanted to respect his privacy so I just grabbed my carry on and followed him out of the plane and into the oddest scene. There were slot machines right in the airport! I actually laughed out loud at the thought of people who couldn’t wait until they got to a casino to gamble until I remembered why I was there.

To my left was a glass enclosed space with slot machines inside and benches running around the edge labeled “smoking area”. The mental stench of addiction was so strong I was surprised that even the “normal” people couldn’t sense it. I vowed that, win or lose, this was not going to be my whole life, and ran to catch up to Carl. As glad as I was to be on solid ground again my sense of anxiety was still fairly high and I wondered just what I was getting myself into.
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